


Greyback - Drabble

by Porphyrios



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Drabble, M/M, Places not to be, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 09:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20006368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porphyrios/pseuds/Porphyrios
Summary: Short drabble about life with Fenrir Greyback in Malfoy Manor.





	Greyback - Drabble

**Author's Note:**

> Very short piece testing out how posting works. Sorry if the tags were incomplete, guidance is welcome from more experienced hands here.

Draco turned his face into the wall. He hadn't felt this helpless since he was a child, if ever. He could feel the golden yellow eyes on him like a chill, tracing the lines of his jaw, his shoulder, his throat. A soft, deep growling was all that could be heard, threatening and lustful.

Voldemort's high, thin voice intruded. "You may not have him, Fenrir." Red eyes glanced at him, somehow making themselves known even through closed lids. Draco's eyes opened and turned to the Dark Lord. His head inclined in calm thanks, a testimonial to early and endless training in etiquette, ground too deeply in to be affected by anything as mundane as terror. Voldemort continued, his noseless face smiling sweetly, all sallow skin and pointed teeth, "Yet." For all that he knew the word was coming, Draco worried for a split second that his tremors would show. The Dark Lord never allowed a situation to be resolved without the maximum amount of fear; Draco knew his terror must seem as palatable to Voldemort as a fine wine to a discriminating gourmand. "So pretty..." Voldemort's long nailed hand slid along Draco's jaw and under, along his Adam's apple, then stopped. With one pointed nail, he lifted Draco's chin, red eyes drilling into pale grey ones. A jealous whine throbbed from the shadows. "This boy is yet useful to me, and his tasks are not yet done." In a sudden, almost dancelike movement, Voldemort whirled around, diaphonous black robe whipping about his slender form. He beckoned to Fenrir as he walked towards the door. "Come."

Fenrir advanced from the shadows, still growling. Despite the original elegance of the tailored suit the older man was wearing, it was dirty, touched here and there with hair and filth. The older man's ragged, messy grey hair and collection of scars would never allow him to pass for someone of refinement. Golden wolfish eyes were locked to Draco's face, tongue almost too long for human jaws whipped around chapped stubbly lips. One of Fenrir's hands reached out as if he would touch the younger man in spite of Voldemort's instructions. As the older man drew closer, Draco felt as though the blood were leaving his body. He knew what Fenrir Greyback did to his toys; he had cleaned up several of the werewolf's former playthings in the time that the Dark Lord had resided at Malfoy Manor. When the ragged nails of Fenrir's hand were almost on Draco's skin, a sibilant whisper came from the door. " _Crucio_ ". Greyback screamed and fell, writhing on the floor.

Voldemort returned into the room at a slow stroll, elegant as a nobleman taking a walk in a flower garden. He glanced down at the older man spasming at his feet as though the agonized body were a vaguely interesting insect, then back at Draco. "Curious." he said quietly. With a quick gesture, the spell was ended; Fenrir drew back, grovelling at Voldemort's bare feet. His face stayed downturned, but Draco noticed the tension in the werewolf's hands, how they curled in and clutched spasmodically, as though clawing at pale flesh only he could see. Voldemort's crimson gaze was on Draco's face again, this time frankly appraising in a way that made the boy's flesh crawl almost worse than Fenrir's naked lust. "For mere desire of you, my dog disobeys me. Very curious." The Dark Lord's wand flicked right, left, casting diagnostic charms, looking for any trace of enchantments, glamours or mind-bending spells. Finding nothing, he leaned in close and sniffed deeply, his nostrils practically pressed to Draco's cheek. The young man felt his bladder threaten to give way. "There is nothing here. No magic. No potion. Only this soft flesh..." 

With a flick of Voldemort's wand, a chain appeared around Fenrir's neck with a lead stretching to the Dark Lord's hand. Glancing down, another sneering smile appeared, thin and disdainful. "So weak. I had thought better of you, Fenrir. Come." Whining like a beaten puppy, Fenrir scrambled on his leash behind the Dark Lord, moving like an ungainly dog on his hands and knees. Draco glanced out of the corner of his eye at the sight, but Fenrir's eyes were kept to the floor as he followed his master through the door. Voldemort glanced back once from the doorway, his eyes weighing Draco. In a flutter of black cloth, he passed into the shadows and was gone.


End file.
